


one, two

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dancing, Genderfluid Character, Genderqueer Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three weeks into their tango classes, Bahorel realises something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one, two

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [AU prompt meme](http://kiyala.tumblr.com/post/96342034971) I'm doing on tumblr for #8. partners in dance class

They're about three weeks into their classes when the realisation makes Bahorel suddenly trip over their own feet. Gasping out a curse, they try to let go of Jehan, so they don't bring him down too. Jehan doesn't allow it, tightening his grip on Bahorel, stepping in close to steady them. 

"Everything alright?" the instructor asks, walking over to them.

Bahorel has their body pressed right up against Jehan's and—well, this is a fucking tango class. They've had their body pressed right up against Jehan's for most of it and it's stupid because they've been closer before, they've literally had their limbs all tangled as they grapple at the gym. Not a good idea for Bahorel to be thinking about that right now. Jehan tightens his grip on Bahorel's hands, as if anticipating that they're about to trip again. 

"We're fine," Jehan replies with a sweet smile, which the instructor immediately returns. "Thank you."

The instructor adores Jehan and Bahorel's glad for that. When Jehan had asked them to accompany him to the tango course he'd been gifted, Bahorel had come expecting to have to knock heads together when people failed to understand that sometimes Jehan would dress in suits, sometimes Jehan would wear dresses, and they'd switch who was leading and who was following. The most they had to put up with was a warning that learning both how to lead and follow would double the amount of work they had to do, but as far as Bahorel can tell, they've both been doing a pretty good job anyway. They're both light on their feet from martial arts, they know how to control their movements, and it's easier to translate fighting into dancing than Bahorel anticipated.

Except Bahorel hadn't really anticipated… this. They don't know what to do with the fact that being so close to Jehan makes their heart race, the intimacy of their steps makes Bahorel's mind race with possibilities that have nothing to do with the dancefloor and everything to do with the way Jehan feels wrapped around them, or them wrapped around Jehan, their noses almost touching.

Pushing the thoughts away, Bahorel tries to focus on their dance, following Jehan with every step. They find their rhythm again and get back into it. They finish their routine, holding their pose for a moment. Bahorel can feel Jehan's breath against their own lips and it's slowly killing them, they're certain of it.

Thankfully, it's the end of yet another week's class. Bahorel steps back, taking a deep breath. Jehan stretches with a satisfied smile. 

"I'm hungry," he says. "Dinner?"

There's no real point in him asking because they follow every dance class with dinner and it's just become routine at this point. They'll change into casual clothes, leave the dance studio and pick up some takeaway on their way to Bahorel's apartment. They'll take turns showering and then spend hours on the couch, eating, talking, watching TV, enjoying each other's presence. Bahorel doesn't really want it to stop once the classes are over, and it's taken them long enough, but they finally know why that is.

The trip home is spent in comfortable silence, until Jehan places their takeaway boxes down on the kitchen counter and clears his throat.

"So, it was unlike you to trip like that."

"Yeah?" Bahorel asks, heart starting to beat quicker again.

"Yeah. You're usually much steadier on your feet. What was that about?"

"I don't know," Bahorel lies, and then frowns. They don't lie to Jehan, and they're not really interested in starting now. "I was distracted, I guess."

"And what were you distracted by?"

"Stuff. I don't know. Do we have to talk about this?"

"I'd like to talk about this," Jehan replies, carefully crossing the room to sit down on the opposite end of the couch to Bahorel. "If that's alright with you. Because I have a feeling that it's something we need to talk about."

"Is it?" Bahorel asks faintly and fuck everything, they don't do this. They don't start feeling all faint because of their feelings. For Jehan. Who is watching them with a soft, fond smile and no, no way, Bahorel isn't going to think about it, isn't going to dare to hope because it's going to hurt and they're not going to be able to deal with—

"I really fucking like you."

Bahorel hates their brain. Bahorel hates their brain a lot.

Jehan smiles brightly, the same way he had at their dance instructor earlier and Bahorel has never been weaker to anything else in their whole life. "That's good."

"Really?"

"Well, it's convenient, you know. Considering I really fucking like you too."

"Convenient," Bahorel repeats with a quiet snort. "Asshole."

Jehan grins. "You like me anyway."

"I do," Bahorel agrees, not quite knowing what to do as Jehan shifts closer to them. Luckily, Jehan seems to know what he's doing. Bahorel is more than happy to take his lead.

"I'm going to kiss you, if that's alright with you."

The squeak that comes out of Bahorel's mouth is downright embarrassing and they're going to deny ever making it until their dying day. Even if it makes Jehan giggle, raising an eyebrow as he waits for a clear answer.

"Yeah," Bahorel whispers. "Go for it."

Jehan runs his fingers through Bahorel's hair, nails just barely scraping across their scalp. Bahorel shudders with pleasure, leaning into the touch. Jehan kisses Bahorel's cheek first, then the corner of their lips. Bahorel turns their face slightly, meeting Jehan's lips with theirs. They're both still for a long moment and Bahorel commits the feeling of Jehan's soft, warm lips to memory. They have a pretty good feeling about this not being a one-time thing, but it's something they want constantly at the bac of their mind anyway. 

Bahorel initiates the second kiss, harder than the first, teeth brushing against Jehan's lip, making him nip back. They laugh against each other's mouth and Jehan presses himself closer, until they're chest to chest, arms wrapped around each other, closer than when they're dancing, or when they're sparring. They haven't showered yet and their food is probably going cold as it waits on the kitchen counter, but none of that really matters right now. Nothing matters as much as this. 

"That tango class was the best idea I've ever had," Jehan murmurs as they pull apart.

"You knew we'd end up here," Bahorel realises, and the thought makes them grin.

"We were always going to end up here," Jehan replies, kissing Bahorel's neck. "I just wanted to get us here faster."

"So what do you say we make up for lost time?" Bahorel asks, grinning as Jehan climbs into their lap, intent on doing just that.


End file.
